“What is an island, a point of land surrounded by water, or a man and a woman surrounded by their world? What does it mean to come home to an island- the core of “Coming Home“.
Brian Brett
“This is a wonderful collection by five talented poets. Reading this book, one yearns for movement, for a different horizon, for beauty. And it makes one ache, just a little.”
Kevin Patterson
Running
by Christine Smart, from ‘Coming Home‘
I run to catch
the wind in my hair to know rain
on my cheeks and feel
mud squelch underfoot to hear
water tumble through culverts I run
to see trees leaning towards me and each other
their branches flailing like dancers
I run from my thoughts the keyboard the kitchen sink
to know my breath sprinting uphill I run past vineyards grape pickers
fields of daffodils and migrant workers
past the man pruning apple trees and the blue heron
on one leg by the lagoon past a pair of mallards in flight I run to see the sun
splinter the sea raindrops hanging like tears on telephone wires
the Clydesdale munching hay lamas lounging I run
through back lanes along the creek over fallen trees and broken branches
to hear my heartbeat sweat and open my lungs smell manure
apple blossoms and the sea I run
from noise, questions and the phone
to stop my thoughts and hear
the pine siskin the varied thrush to see
color in the clouds touch trees with my breath and circle
the meadow common camas sword ferns stinging nettles
and know there’s something other
than blood muscle bone I find
light under my skin and open
my body to let the sky in.
